


Letters

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Papyrus Knows More Than He Lets On, Papyrus Remembers Resets, Papyrus-centric, Sans Being Sans, Self-Harm, dont ask me why i just really want more of these stories, i feel like we need more stories where papyrus suffers, i might write more of them this week tbh, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 15:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9189956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Papyrus has written many letters like this one.All of them are left unread.(...but not forgotten.)





	

_I love you_.

This is the first thing Papyrus writes down. His movements are slow, thoughtful, careful—the last one due to the blood running down his arms. He hasn’t healed it yet—he doesn’t think he’ll bother to at all.

Choking on his tears, rubbing them away with a wipe of his glove, he continues to write.

_Do I say that enough? That I love you? I can never tell. You don’t react to most things I say anymore. Always off in your own little world, thinking you have to bear the world’s sins on your shoulders. You’ve always been like that, I know, but it still worries me. Maybe the problem is that I worry so much about it—about you. _

He pulls his sleeve down, lets the blood pool in the fabric. Better than getting it all over the paper.

_Sans, I know you won’t read this—you never see any of these. Nobody does. I’ve written thousands, and yet, when I wake up the next morning, my letters disappear. It’s a morning we’ve already lived through, and we’re back before we ended up on the surface._

_It hurts._

Papyrus isn’t sure if he’s talking about the wounds on his arms or the pain in his chest.

_I love you. I love you a lot. You’re the main reason I keep going. The main reason I get out of bed to face the day—your smile, however lazy, your jokes, your happiness. It all means the world to me. You are my world, if I’m being honest. I could care less about everyone else—well, Undyne is important to me, too, but not as much as you._

_You have no idea how important you are. Your potential—you could do so many great things. More than I ever could. I’ll only ever be good for telling you to get out of bed and doing chores._

_The truth is… I don’t matter. I’ve known this for a while; since I was a baby bones, when nobody would talk to me or befriend me. Everyone’s always left me, always being better off. I know, deep down…even you’ve gotten along without me. _

Papyrus sobs, drops the pen in his hand. Finish it, he tells himself. Finish what you started.

He can’t. His chest hurts so bad, and he’s wheezing, his face a mess. His sleeve is soaked. It’s uncomfortable.

Shakily, he forces himself to pick the pen back up.

_I know you know about the resets. I know you do, because you show it more—you’re affected by it more. I hear you scream in the middle of the night; see you get bored with the “script.” See you wince when Frisk picks up a knife or gets a certain look in their eyes. I know you remember, but you still won’t tell me. Maybe…that’s because it’s the same reason why I won’t tell you that I know, but I still wish you’d be honest. But who am I kidding, right? You’re never honest. Guess I had a good teacher, huh?_

_I’ve gotten so good at faking, Sans. Everyone’s fooled. They all think I’m happy! That I know nothing, save how to cook and clean and want to be in the royal guard. Shocking, what the truth holds._

_If you do see this letter, I want you to know that this…this wasn’t your fault. I didn’t fall this low because of you, and I don’t want you to fall to this point because of me, either. I want you to live and be happy! I want you to see the world, travel, make new memories—memories that will stick. I want you to settle down and…I don’t know, live? You haven’t done that ever. I’d like to see you live, wherever I end up._

_I love you, brother. I love you I love you I love you I love you I loveyou Iloveyou_

There’s a knock at his door. “Paps?” The worn, amused voice of his brother slips through the door, and Papyrus startles, dropping his pen for the second time. He doesn’t bother to pick it up. “Paps, are you alright in there? I, uh, heard you cryin’.”

Papyrus clears his throat, steadies his breath. He smiles at the door, aware that he can’t be seen. “I’m fine, brother,” he says with surprising ease, not a single syllable shaking. “Don’t worry about me—I’m okay! Everything is just fine. Big skeletons don’t cry, after all!”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that.” Sans waits, but for what, Papyrus doesn’t try to guess. He’d rather his brother leave—now. “…Well, if you need anything, I’m—I’ll be downstairs. Okay?”

“Okay!”

He waits with bated breath until, finally, finally, those footsteps step away from the door and down the stairs, into the living room.

Papyrus waits for the TV to turn on before returning to his letter.

He reads it over, once, twice—

He sighs. _Useless_.

He tears it up and throws it into the wastebasket.

Utterly pointless, writing a letter that will never be read.

Papyrus glances to his arm and grimaces, opening his desk drawer and pulling out a wad of bandages. He tends the wounds on his arm, barely feeling the pain, before changing his shirt. He’ll clean the other one tonight, when Sans is asleep—that way, he won’t see the stains.

That way, Sans can’t get an inkling of a doubt that his brother isn’t what he seems to be.

Stretching, a troubled expression on his face, Papyrus makes his way to his door. He doesn’t remember what the day is, but he knows—he knows the human will fall soon.

The thought crushes him.

The thought exhilarates him.

Hand reaching forward for the knob, Papyrus forces a smile to his face, checking for the last time that his sleeve reaches far enough that the bandages are hidden.

Then, he opens the door and steps outside.

Time to brave through another day.

Pretending—but hey, the Great Papyrus is at least good at that one, isn’t he?

**Author's Note:**

> i want more stories where papyrus remembers resets and the poor skele suffers because of it, but is also trying to be happy for his brother's (and everyone else's) sake.


End file.
